Cherry
by MizzForgetful
Summary: NOTE: SORRY FOR NO UPDATES. RE-DOING THIS FIC. The 84th Hunger Games, Katniss must help two more tributes try to survive, with Peeta, and Haymitch; dreading to do so. But this year she thinks maybe the female tribute Cerise Gorman will be able to win.
1. Chapter 1: Intro & Reaping day

Summary: Ten years later, the 84th Hunger Games, Katniss must help two more tributes try to survive, with Peeta, and Haymitch; dreading to do so. But this year she thinks maybe things will be different, maybe the female tribute Cerise Gorman will win.

**A/N: **will change between Katniss' point of view and my OC occasionally.

plz R&R

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**Katniss POV, introduction. **

I feel a familiar sense of unease as I climb aboard the tribute train that will be taking us all to the Capitol. Ten years later and things are still relatively unchanged. Every year the Hunger Games are held, and every year since I won I have to be a mentor to the two tributes from District 12. The only thing that makes this reoccurring situation any more bearable is that I am not alone. Along with me are Peeta Mellark, and our own previous mentor for the Games, Haymitch Abernathy. This is my eleventh time being on the tribute train. Surprisingly enough the second time was more terrifying than the first.

That first time on board, when I had been the female tribute of District 12, I'd been more focused on not showing any weakness to the cameras as I got on the train. Not to mention worrying about my mother and younger sister Prim, and also in awe of the train itself. But the second time I'd had to ride the train into the Capitol had been a very different experience. Sure I wasn't the tribute that time so I didn't need to worry about impending death, but it was still awful. As soon as I climbed on I had a terrible feeling of panic and had to constantly remind myself I wasn't the one about to face death. Then there was the fact of the tributes.

The girl was 15 and the boy was 14. Both were so frightened and upset, with no hope at all. I tried to be encouraging but there was no denying they wouldn't make it back. One just as scrawny and gangly as the other, snivelling and crying, with no real fighting skills, neither had hunted before. Not to mention they didn't particularly seem to want our help. They didn't ask any questions and barely listened to what we told them, already have given up hope. That was when I realized why Haymitch had acted as he had to Peeta and me in the beginning; too many years of having tributes unwilling to listen or do anything to help themselves. Every year so far they've all been the same. Then you have to go and watch them die. Even though you know it's not your fault you can't help but feel guilty, thinking if only you'd done something different they might have made it.

The three of us walk through the familiar corridor. Effie Trinket has already taken each tribute to their chambers. To her dismay she never was assigned to another, more preferable, district. I feel a light nudge to my arm and turn to look at Peeta beside me. He's giving me a knowing glance and a grim smile.

Here we go again. Another year, another pair of dead tributes. At first I had hoped Peeta and me both winning would change something, but it hadn't. The Games still go on every year. Always the same, always 23 people dead; all pretty much just children. All of a sudden there's a thought flashing through my mind, along with the image of this year's female tribute for district 12. _Maybe things will be different this year. Perhaps the tributes will be different._

I sigh, doubtful, but the thought lingers in the back of my head and I can't help but hope.

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**Cerise POV, earlier that day. **

Today is the day of the reaping, and it's already past noon. My father is dressed in his best clothes, and so is my mother. She's helping me get ready. My outfit consists of nothing more than a white blouse, slightly tinged gray because of the coal dust on everything, and a royal blue skirt that reaches just below my knee. It flares out at the bottom and swirls around my legs when I walk; very pretty really. I give a small smile at my reflection and then sit down so my mother can do my hair.

I'm actually pretty scared, worried about being chosen as tribute, but I can't let this show. Both of my parents are bigger wrecks than I am and this means it's up to me to keep the mood light. My father is the strongest and bravest person I know, but he's more anxious for me than I am. He just keeps his eyes locked on me all day, concern creasing his forehead and shining in his eyes, while my mother tries to smile and act upbeat but every now and then she'll start to cry. If this is how they act when I'm only in danger of being chosen, I can barely imagine how they'll be if I am.

When mother finishes with my hair I stand again and go look in the mirror. The long, dark puce locks, reaching all the way down my back, have been pulled up and twisted into a bun near the top of my head, while a few pieces have been left to hang down and frame my face. My hair is a rather odd colour I think, some weird combination of brown, red, and purple. I turn back to my parents and give as cheerful a smile as I can muster.

"Thanks mamma. It looks wonderful."

She forces a smile, but a few tears fall from her eyes. "You're welcome dear."

My father's gaze is still glued to me as he stands and places an arm around my mother's shoulders.

"We should get going." He says.

I walk over to them and we all hug each other tightly. For a minute or two this is how we stay, and then finally break apart.

"You needn't worry so much about me. I only have twelve slips. There are thousands to choose from." I shrug.

When my father speaks again there's a sharper edge to his voice. It's not quite anger, but a disapproving air.

"Six more slips than there should be."

I look down at my feet, encased in dainty little black shoes. My father was against me taking out any tesserae, but I did. But he wouldn't let me take any out for him and my mother. So instead of four slips every year, it's only two. Still, to him this is too much; double what it should be. I believe he also feels guilty for the fact it was needed for me to take any tesserae at all. He thinks it's his fault for not being able to provide for his family. I think this is ludicrous because for living in the Seam, we're pretty well off. Perhaps we aren't always full, but we never go hungry. He works in the mines and my mother has a small business as a seamstress. Father also hunts in the forest if need be; something he could be killed for. I've only ever gone hunting with him twice.

Finally, just before one o'clock we leave our home and head for the square. All the people of District Twelve are gathering. I give a final hug to my parents and begin my way through the crowd. When I reach the section marked off for the seventeen year olds, I exchange glances with some of my friends and we wish each other good luck. Looking around I notice my parents have managed to get to a spot near the front of the crowd, they're both staring at me intently and I give them another reassuring smile before turning my attention to the stage. The mayor is seated, along with Effie Trinket the escort for District 12's tributes, a previous victor of the games Haymitch Abernathy, and the most recent winners Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. My gaze lingers over Katniss for a moment. I have met her multiple times before. I frequently go and see her mother and sister, and they teach me all they know about healing and medicine. It fascinates me really and when I'm helping someone it makes me feel so good. Even though I was only seven at the time, I can still remember watching the Hunger Games back when Katniss and Peeta were District 12's tributes. She was so smart and brave and strong, she even managed to make it so her and Peeta were both able to win. It makes me wonder why we haven't been able to win every year since with these two helping out tributes; not to mention Haymitch, who won the Games and helped Peeta and Katniss.

Lastly my gaze drifts over to a boy in the group marked off for the 18 year olds. He's tall and slim, but you can tell he's muscular, with short, spiky black hair and olive toned skin. He turns and looks at me. His face is stoic but when our eyes meet a flash of worry crosses his face. The boy's name is Ethan, and he's my boyfriend; but to me that doesn't seem strong enough a word. I love him more than anything in the world, and suddenly all the worry I had for myself is gone and all I can think of is him. His family only consists of himself and his older brother, since their parents died, so he only has 12 slips with his name on them for the reaping like me. His brother wouldn't let him take out any tesserae until he was no longer eligible for the Hunger Games. So until he was fourteen Ethan only had one slip put into the draw each year.

By now it's reached two o'clock and the mayor has started his speech. Once he's finished telling of the history of Panem, he steps to the side and Effie Trinket bounds on over to the microphone and recites her annual mantra, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" and beams at everyone. Then as she always does she says "Ladies first!" and goes to the glass ball containing the girls names. Reaching in she pulls out the small piece of paper and goes back to the podium. After she reads the name she takes a pause before saying it out loud.

"Cerise Gorman!"

At first I don't even register that she's said my name, until she says it again and the girl behind me gives me a nudge. Then I'm stepping onto the stage and somewhere I hear what sounds like my mother's sob, but I can't make myself look to my parents.

Effie says something, but I'm not listening anymore. The crowd claps quietly and I'm looking to Ethan, who's once stoic face is now full of anger and it seems that a number of people around him are having to hold him back from coming up onto the stage. I give a slight shake of my head and he seems to finally restrain himself and the emotionless mask is back on his face, but his eyes never leave mine. Then Effie reads out the name of the boy tribute, Marcello something or other, but I don't know him and at this point I'm past caring. The only look on my face is shock but I don't think anyone can tell except those who really know me. I have eyelids that are naturally, slightly droopier than most peoples. So unless my eyes are really widened you can't tell that I'm actually as surprised as I am. The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, Marcello and I shake hands, the anthem plays, and then we're taken into custody.

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**A/N:** The beginning here isn't exactly to my satisfaction, but I like it. It's more of an introduction than anything else. Originally I was going to skip the reaping and start out on the tribute train heading to the Capitol. But I decided this would be better.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and will read the rest as I post it. =)

This is actually my first fic, ((that I've posted at least)). I was going to put one up of Naruto, but I decided I really wanted to write on about The Hunger Games since I just read the book and found it to be amazing! But I didn't know it was going to be a trilogy so when it said "end of book one" I could barely contain my imatience. So to stop myself from exploding I decided to write my own story about it. Not to mention before I read it I was having terrible writer's block and the book seemed to cure it. ^_^ I thought it needed to be honoured for that. Seriously it was the worst block I have ever had...  
Also the title is "Cherry" because that's what the name 'Cerise' means.

plz plz plz review. :-)

seriously, more reviews = more motivation, and inspiration for me which = quicker update


	2. Chapter 2: Cross My Heart

**A.N.: **okayyyy... so it's been what, four days since I posted the first chapter? I'm surprised I got this up so quickly. I literally agonizied over it for four straight days. But each time I got a review I felt inspired and had to continue :)  
It probably would have been done sooner if I wasn't so obsessive. I had more than half of it written the next day but went back and edited in over and over and over. It's alright. I'm happy with the outcome even if it sort of veered off of my plan a bit. I feel a little like it's too descriptive, like I'm blathering on, and then I feel like it's no way descriptive enough. Maybe I'm describing the wrong things? Anyway now I really am blathering on here... SOOO I'll continue at the bottom, because I'm no where near done. xD

Enjoy =), plzzzzzzzzzzz review. I beg you. positive, negative, anything.

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**_"Take me with you  
I start to miss you  
Take me home_****_  
I don't wanna be alone tonight_**

_**And I do want to show you  
I will run to you to you 'til I  
Can't stand on my own anymore I  
Cross my heart and hope to die  
Cross my heart and hope to die  
Cross my heart and hope to.."  
**_--Cross My Heart, by Marianas Trench

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**Cerise POV.**

Once we're in the justice building I'm ushered into one room and left alone. Soon people will be coming to see me to say goodbye. I sit down on the couch and tap my feet nervously on the floor, but the thick carpet is drowning out any noise that might make. The quiet is making me more nervous and I think I might be about to have a panic attack when the door opens, and in walks my parents.

My mother is openly crying now and she's sort of hunched over, clutching onto my father walking along beside her. Both my parents look like they've aged ten years in the last hour. Now they're hugging me and it's just like before we left for the reaping, yet incredibly more awful. I've been trying to hold it together but I'm too overwhelmed. I bury my face against my mother's shoulder and let out a choked sob, and finally tears overflow in my eyes.

After a few minutes of this I move away from them and try to pull myself together. Mamma grabs onto my arms and makes me look at her. Her eyes are wide and frantic, and tears fall down her cheeks. I've never seen her so distraught before. She looks broken. Her voice is wheezing when she speaks and she sounds as if this is her last breath.

"You must survive." Is all she says.

The words are haunting to me but I nod slowly and eventually her grip loosens. They're telling my they love me and to be careful over and over again until the Peacekeepers come in and tell them their time is up, they have to leave. My father has to practically drag my mother out the door but he knows that if he doesn't then they will. Before he leaves he takes one last, long look at me over his shoulder. The intensity in this one look frightens me even more than my mother's words.

Finally the door closes again and I sit back down. I'm trying to wipe any evidence of tears off my face, and just end up cradling my head in my hands. I don't have the energy. The only thought that keeps me from collapsing is that I know who will be next to see me. Ethan. I have to try and look alive. By now he's already pushing everyone away again and trying to hide from the world. So I force myself to stand back up. It's a good thing too because just as I get to my feet he comes barging in.

He stops, only about an inch away, and just looks at me. Ethan has a good eight inches on me height wise with his 6'2". His face is almost blank except I'm able to see the pain and anger in his eyes. I can tell he's trying to decide whether or not to embrace me, but I don't wait for him to make up his mind. Instead I close the small gap between us and wrap my arms around his waist. Almost immediately he puts his arms around me. Ethan is the sort of person who needs a bit of a push when it comes to anything that involves showing feeling, but I've learnt to read his emotions myself. Sometimes I believe I know what he wants even before he does. I find this sort of ironic because when we first met I had no idea he liked me at all.

At the time I had a huge crush on his older brother, like most girls around. Ethan is pretty popular with the girls himself but when it comes to popularity he'll never be able to hold a candle up to his brother. Ethan's dark hair, olive skin, and grey eyes are standard from most families who work the mines, only differences being his eyes are darker than you'd expect, closer to a charcoal. Gareth, his brother, has dark hair as well but while Ethan's is jet black his is a dark brown and long. His eyes are a little more narrow and are somewhere between a light grey to a baby blue. There's a gentle look to his face that just reflects how kind he is.

To someone other than Gareth or me, Ethan seems cold and distant. He acts very harsh to other people and the rest of the time tends to keep to himself. But in reality he's very sensitive, and when his parents died Ethan just closed himself off from the rest of the world. At first I could barely stand him, he was rude, arrogant, and sarcastic and it took months before we were able to have a civil conversation. Now I don't know how I could ever have seen him in such a way.

"I should've volunteered as tribute." He says.

I lift my head and lean back to look at him, aghast. I open and close my mouth several times before the horror at his words has passed enough that I am able to form a sentence.

"Why on earth would you do that? So you could be killed too? My god Ethan, what purpose would that serve anyone?" I've started yelling a little, my voice quivering and he looks like he regrets his words. I wipe my eyes furiously, trying to get rid of the tears escaping again. Each tiny droplet is like a little reminder of how weak I am.

"Not to die, but to protect you." He says this as if the reason should have been obvious but all I can think is of how scared I'd been about him being chosen just before my name was called.

"How would that have worked? You kill off everyone else and make sure I make it to the end. Alright, then what? Do you honestly think I would be able to kill you? Or maybe we would do what Peeta and Katniss did a decade ago? I don't think the Capitol will fall for the same thing twice. It would be pointless for you to be sent to die with me. I wouldn't be able to stand it, so just stop evening thinking about it."

My eyes are still filling with tears and I lay my head against his chest again. As I shudder and sob he gently strokes my hair.

"I'm sorry I brought it up. I didn't mean to upset you more Cherry."

This is Ethan's little nickname for me, Cherry, he basically just calls me by my name meaning. It happened because he used to tease me about my name, because I actually don't much like cherries, but after a while I started to like him calling me that and it sort of stuck.

"Just promise you'll come back, alright?" He says, and this time he's the one who pulls back to look at me. His hands move to my shoulders and rest there. I smile weakly at him and tap the little silver, heart-shaped, locket around my neck. Ethan gave it to me for my birthday, it belonged to his mother.

"Cross my heart." I reply.

He kisses me forehead, whispers, "and hope to _live_."

I let out a small laugh, because it's all I can do to keep from crying again, and shake my head at him.

"Do you know how corny that sounds?"

The one side of his mouth tugs upward at the corner, in what is the most of a smile I expect to get out of him presently, and he shrugs.

"But it's true."

We both know time's almost up and Ethan will have to leave any minute, then I'll be taken to the tribute train and head to the Capitol. Promise or no promise, this could be the last time we ever see each other and that's also something we both know, even if neither of us is willing to say it out loud. So this time he's the one who closes the space between us by moving his hand to the small of my back and pulling me forward. At first is lips barely brush mine, and then his mouth is firm and forceful and I can feel the desperation there; as if he thinks I'll just disappear from against him. The feeling is all wrong and I want to try and reassure him but then I hear the door open and he's drawing away.

The last thing he does is whisper to me before he leaves, "Be safe Cherry. I love you."

I'm shouting the words after him and the door closes right as I finish. I just stand there and then suddenly fling myself at the door trying to get through it, to him again, but it's locked and I'm trapped. I sink down to the floor until the Peacekeepers finally come for me. I open the locket and stare at the picture inside. It's not like we exactly have a camera and are able to take pictures back home, but Ethan is actually quite the talented artist. Inside the small locket is a folded piece of paper, opened up it's about 3 inches by 3 inches. On it is a small drawing of me and Ethan. It took him a couple weeks to finish it but the picture is wonderful.

When the door swings open again, it hits me in the back and the corner digs into my side. The sharp jab of pain makes me wince and I lean forward away from the door. I expect it to be the Peacekeepers but instead it seems I have another visitor. When I look up I see Gareth's soft eyes trained on me, one eyebrow lifted in curiosity to my current spot on the floor and his mouth is curved slightly into a smile. I can't help but gasp a little every time I see him. There's just something about Gareth that seems to draw you in, some weird charisma he's got. True he is handsome, but he isn't the most attractive looking man in the world; or even all of District 12.

"Barricading the door are we? I suspect that would be more effective using the furniture rather than yourself." He says.

I fold up the picture and put it back inside the locket before snapping it shut. Then he reaches out a hand to me and I gladly accept, since when I tried to get up myself the spot where the door hit me is stinging and posed a bit of a problem. He pulls me up from the floor and we go sit down on the velvet couch.

"Nice place they've stuck you in here." He says, looking around admiring the room.

I shrug. I take a moment to take my first real look around the room. It has panelled walls, and comfortable looking chairs. The door is magnificent to, intricately carved. The plush carpet is wine red in colour. It's thick and my feet sink slightly into it. I imagine to sleep on this floor would be more restful than even my own bed at home.

"I'll be treated like a queen, until they send me into the arena to my death."

He stands and rubs his chin as he goes and sits down in an adjacent chair.

"Ah but I believe my brother mentioned something about you promising to come home, on his way out of here." Then he leans forward, elbows propped up on his knees, chin resting on top of his hands. His voice is barely audible when he says, "I don't think you want to be breaking your word now, do you?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat and shake my head. I wonder for a moment what would have happened if Gareth had been chosen as tribute, if he was still eligible. He's definitely smart enough, and physically he'd be alright too, I don't doubt he'd have made it back and District 12 would have another winner. But instead they get me as a tribute this year. I barely reach 5'6" and I'm lucky if I'm 113lbs. Of course it's not completely hopeless. I'm not entirely weak, and I'm not an idiot either, but it just seems to me that being slightly less helpless than someone else from District 12 won't help me stay alive in the arena.

Gareth's voice draws me out of my thoughts. "Don't underestimate yourself there Cerise."

I'd forgotten how much he's able to read my emotions just from my face. Not that it's so hard since I tend to be overly emotional, but it's still unsettling. The only person who can read Ethan as easily as I can is his brother, but after 3 years Gareth can see right through me too. My cheeks flush and I bite my lip, embarrassed that he guessed what I was thinking. He just chuckles at me and stands back up.

"Do you have ants in your pants or something?" I snap. This just makes him laugh a little more.

"Maybe."

I shift uncomfortable, trying to summon the courage to say something that's been on mind ever since my name was called and Ethan almost came up on the stage. My voice cracks and I think I might start crying again.

"You won't... you'll make sure Ethan doesn't become distant again, if I don't come back? It's not good for him to be like that, and he's only just begun opening up to people again. He'd already sort of started to clam up when he came to see me."

Gareth loses all the light humour before and his face becomes very grave.

"I won't let it happen again, and I'll look after your parents as well. I saw them when they left..." His words trail off at the end but he doesn't need to continue because I know what he's saying. I remember my mother when she came to see me and know my father was only holding up so well so I wouldn't be worried about him too. If I don't come back who knows what will happen to them.

"You'll be back though, you have great mentors. I remember watching the games ten years ago, and Prim talks very highly of her sister Katniss. She was assuring me that you'd be back and I believe her."

I actually manage to smile a little at this and poke Gareth in the stomach.

"Of course you believe her. If she told you the sky was red and grass was purple you'd believe her, simply because she's Primrose Everdeen and you fancy her."

My teasing is actually able to bring a blush to his face and he rolls his eyes at me.

"Shut up you."

Gareth has been sweet on Prim for a while now, which is just another thing strange about this whole situation I find. Another way I seem to know Katniss yet I don't truly know her at all. Unfortunately for Gareth, Prim seems to be the only person impervious to his charm and oblivious to his affection for her. He often uses the fact that I spend a lot of time with Prim, her teaching me about healing, as an excuse to just show up when I'm over visiting her. Before leaving Gareth pats me on the head, but the gesture isn't condescending, it's something he does to show he thinks of me as family; like a little sister practically. Then he's gone too and I'm alone again, but not for more than a few seconds this time when the Peacekeepers come in and usher me to the train.

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Marcello and I board the tribute train. When we first start moving I look to the window and see the outside just flying by. I'm worried I won't be able to walk very well since the speed of the train has greatly thrown off my balance, but I'm able to adjust quickly. The ever perky Effie Trinket leads us around. First she shows me to my own chambers before taking Marcello to his. She tells me that anything I could possibly need is at my fingertips and that I can do anything I want. I have to fight back the urge to reply, "Anything but get the hell out of here and go home". There's a bedroom and a dressing area, drawers filled with clothes, and even my own private bathroom. I can't help but be impressed. I sit gingerly on the bed and after a moment I start bouncing up and down like some little kid. I can tell it's very soft. Then I get up and open some of the drawers. The clothes inside literally take my breath away and I run my fingertips over the different fabrics. What my mother would give to be able to make clothes out of such materials. Silk and satin, cashmere, and even the simple cotton shirts are softer and more luxurious than anything I've ever felt before.

As I carefully pick up different garments I notice that I'm shaking. It's not just a slight tremble but my entire body is shaking and suddenly I'm afraid my legs are going to give out beneath me. Very carefully I walk into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. It doesn't do much to help and I decide I'll have a shower. I've never had one before and I think maybe the warm water will help me relax. So I slip out of my reaping clothes and into the shower. It feels wonderful and I know it was the right idea because I do start to relax a little, enough to stop shaking at least. After I dry myself off I go back to the clothes. I evaluate these to what I was wearing and conclude that my reaping clothes look like rags in comparison.

I dress in slim black pants and the first top I can find in my size. It's cream in colour and made of some light, airy fabric I don't recognize. When the light hits it a certain way the top seems to have a sheen to it. The short sleeves sit perched on the edge of my shoulders. Two inches from the bottom is some sort of band that ties with a little bow, and then the bottom just sort of frills out. The reason someone might actually wear a shirt like this is beyond me, but I guess it is pretty. Do people in the Capitol wear these types of things all the time? It seems too fancy for just every day. But as Ethan would say, "People from the Capitol are freaks." T

he colour of the top is actually a shade darker than my skin and I have to wonder how it is I can be so pale and pasty. My mother says I have 'fair' skin like her, but I don't see the comparison. Her skin is smooth and creamy and light and I think I just look like a ghost.

For a while I just lounge on the bed staring up at the ceiling, waiting until Effie comes and says it's time to eat. I follow her into a dining room and take a seat.

Around the table are Marcello, Effie who's just been seated, Katniss, and Peeta. A few minutes later Haymitch graces us with his presence. I know he's probably been drinking but surprisingly enough he doesn't look or sound very drunk. From what I'd been told I was expecting him to be far worse off than this. As the food is served Effie keeps up a stream of conversation with occasional interludes by the others. I'm mostly very quiet and only give a nod or a shake of my head when a question or comment is directed at me. The food tastes magnificent and I can't believe how much there is! It just keeps coming! Marcello is just as amazed as I am, or maybe more so. I try to work up an appetite but leave most of the food untouched. It's not that I don't want to try it, I just can't seem to keep much food down. This day has been exhausting and just the thought of what's coming makes me queasy.

Every now and then I lock gazes with Katniss. It's creeping me out really, the fact that she keeps looking at me. I wonder if she thinks I'm totally hopeless. I see her and Peeta sitting there and I desperately want to ask them about their time in the Games; to tell me every detail of what happened. Any advice they can give me is welcome. But of course I don't say this. It doesn't seem like the appropriate thing to bring up here at dinner. Besides who would really want to relive all that? They really don't look all that thrilled to be here, none of us are. Except Effie, who is always so damn upbeat it makes me want to dunk her head in the soup in front of me.

By the end of the meal I still haven't said anything and I'm cursing myself for it. There's only so much time before we're thrown into the arena and I need to start preparing now. We head to another area of the train to watch the replay of the other reapings and the people who I will have to face soon; and kill if I ever want the hope of getting home. Of course all the Career tributes, as we refer to them in District 12, those from districts 1, 2 and 4, are intimidating. To imagine I might be fighting these people has me doubting myself even more. I clutch my locket for support and remind myself I can do this, I have to. My mother's words and desperate voice fill my head, and I think of the look on my father's face when he left. The only other tribute that really stands out in my mind is a boy from District 6. He looks an awful lot like Ethan, with the same spiky black hair and dark eyes; except his eyes are as black as night and his skin is more tanned.

Afterwards I go back to my room. I pull off my outfit and go pick out a nightgown. After I put it on I go look in the mirror and give a little smirk. The nightgown is a soft blue, and has a little frill at the bottom. At the top of my wait is a thin, satiny ribbon in the same blue as the rest of the nightgown. But the reason why I picked it was because all over the garment is decorated with little embroidered cherries. I crawl into bed and yank the covers up to my neck. As soon as I'm tucked in I'm overwhelmed with sadness and loneliness. Unable to hold it all in anymore, I burst into tears. I sob and cry until I finally fall asleep. All night I drift in and out from consciousness to sleep, the tears never stop falling though.

When I wake up in the morning I'm ashamed of my weakness but I figure this will be how my nights are until I get into the arena. The fabric of the pillow case is damp and clings to the side of my face. Eventually I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. Then I pull on the same black pants from the previous day, but put on my blouse from the reaping. It's familiar to me and smells of home. I look out the window and see that it's barely dawn. When I open my door to look out into the corridor it's just as Katniss is walking by. She notices me and stops. For a moment we just sort of look at each other.

"Good morning." She says eventually.

I'm about to reply with something to the same effect when I stop myself. In a few hours we'll reach the Capitol and I'm not any closer to be slightly prepared for the Games. After a moment's hesitation I just blurt the words out.

"I need help. I'm afraid and I have no idea what I'm doing. You're someone who's supposed to be here to help me right? Can't you tell me anything before we reach the Capitol? My life is on the line here, I could use some advice."

There's another moment of silence and I'm cursing myself thinking she's not going to help me at all, when she finally speaks up.

"When we get o the Capitol you'll be taken to your stylists. Whatever it is they plan to do to you, don't resist."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Katniss POV. **

When we're all done watching the reapings, everyone heads off to bed. By tomorrow afternoon we'll be in the Capitol and I am just dreading it. The only plus side is Effie says that Cinna and Portia are the stylists for District 12 again this year. Ever since Peeta and me they seem very fond of our district. In the past ten years they've been the stylists for District 12's tributes 6 times; this being the sixth. It'll be nice to see them again. They still have a fondness for fire it seems, and I wonder what in the world they'll do this year. When I reach the door to my own room on the train Peeta and I part ways.

"Get some sleep Katniss; big, big, big day tomorrow." He says, and I half laugh half groan.

"Please don't say that." I say. If I have to hear Effie speak those words everyday for the next week or more I might just snap.

At first I just flop, face down, onto the bed but after a few minutes of finding it difficult to breathe I roll myself over on my back. We'll be in the Capitol tomorrow. I think back to dinner and the few times I locked eyes with Cerise. It's strange for her to be here. I know her; she's friends with Prim and my mother.

_Another person for me to watch die in the arena._

I'm really sick of all this. She seems like a nice person and it doesn't seem right to send her to her death. Maybe if Cerise decides to listen to me I can help her possibly survive. I don't know what to make of Marcello exactly. He seems timid, but I suspect it's possible he's just scared senseless. Tomorrow Peeta and I will have to try and speak to those two; and Haymitch if he decides to show up at breakfast.

For a while I just think about everything. The tributes, the few times I've seen or heard about Cerise, all these years of mentoring tributes for District 12, my own time in the Hunger Games, Peeta, Haymitch, Effie, Cinna, my mother, Prim, my father, Gale, my hatred for the Capital, and what I might possibly say to Cerise, and Marcello too. Eventually I drift asleep and wake up just before dawn. In the morning I get right up out of bed and leave for breakfast. While walking down the hall I place my hand over the small mockingjay pin on my shirt. After my time in the Games, Madge let me keep it and I wear the little pin every day. Just as I pass by Cerise's door, it opens and she stands there in the doorway. For some reason I stop and turn to her. We don't say anything for a while, it's getting kind of awkward and I'm wishing I'd kept walking. I figure since I did stop, I should at least say something.

"Good morning." Is all I am able to come up with.

We're in silence again, just looking at each other. I wonder if she can talk at all, since I haven't heard her utter a word yet not even yesterday, when she finally blurts it out.

"I need help. I'm afraid and I have no idea what I'm doing. You're someone who's supposed to be here to help me right? Can't you tell me anything before we reach the Capitol? My life is on the line here, I could use some advice." By the end her tone has taken a bit of a hard edge to it that surprises me.

_Perhaps there really is hope_

So I give her the same, first piece of useful, advice Haymitch gave to me and Peeta.

"When we get o the Capitol you'll be taken to your stylists. Whatever it is they plan to do to you, don't resist."

Then I continue on my way to breakfast and I hear her door close behind me as I turn the corner.

* * *

**A.N.: **and there it is. Almost went insane writing it, but I did it. Now for the next chapter I have no idea what I'm doing. I've started writing some parts of the actual games, but I hadn't planned all the before stuff. Originally chapter one and everything before the train wasn't even in here. So don't expect Chapter 3 in four days. Although who knows if I get inspired and get lots of reviews it might be. =)  
Of course I have a lot of work to do this week too...

Anyway one last thing: I'm planning on switching perspectives from Katniss and Cerise as you can clearly tell, but I was wondering about others. Like her parents, or Ethan, or Gareth, or *cough* someone from later on that I've planned in here ;)... let me know what you think. should I add more perspectives or just stick with Cerise and the occasional Katniss?

Dont forget to review!! I enjoy all and any comments :-)


	3. Chapter 3: Fences

**_A/N:_** holy crap I can't believe it took me this long to update .

Sorry. If anyone is even reading this anymore, hopefully the next chapter won't take as long. Hopefully. Although I still don't know what I'm going to do for the interview part...

Anyway enjoy :)

* * *

**_You're always on display  
For everyone to watch and learn from,  
Don't you know by now,  
You can't turn back  
Because this road is all you'll ever have._**

And it's obvious that you're dying, dying.  
Just living proof that the camera's lying.  
And oh oh open wide, 'cause this is your night.  
So smile, 'cause you'll go out in style.  
You'll go out in style.

-Fences, by Paramore

**Cerise POV**

I'm feeling a little better when I finally make my way to breakfast. Katniss has given me my first piece of advice since I was chosen as tribute. Maybe it isn't something to help me survive in the arena but it must be significant if she bothered to tell me at all. Besides I know the opening ceremonies are one of the important steps to getting sponsors and that's what my stylist will be getting me ready for. Of course, even feeling a little less worried about my mentors not wanting t assist me, I am very nervous of what might be coming from my stylist I'll want to resist in the first place.

Fortunately this worry doesn't lessen my appetite today and I stuff myself at breakfast. The food is so wonderful I'm sorry when I'm finally full and unable to eat anymore of it. The others were talking about the opening ceremonies when I came in and Marcello has also received the same information as I did.

_Don't resist. Don't resist. _

After breakfast I just stay where I am, digesting my meal, while some of the others scatter about. Suddenly the outside of the train has gone dark and I realize we must be in the tunnel. I'm hit with the notion that this is really happening. All my worry until now is nothing compared to this overwhelming feeling of finality as we go through the tunnel, under the mountains that separate the districts from the Capitol. There's certainly no hope of them turning back now, of all this really ending up being a sick joke. I'm sorry I ate so much now.

When we emerge and the light filters back in through the windows, I feel tempted to go look at the city that is supposedly so glorious but I can't will myself to move. Marcello walks over and takes a look outside. We're ushered off the train and into the remake center. I keep chanting Katniss's advice over and over in my head like a mantra.

_Don't resist. Don't resist. Don't resist. Don't resist..._

* * *

I spend all day being scrubbed, plucked, dyed, painted and dressed. By the time it's all finished I hardly recognize myself. My hair has been pulled back and twisted into a bun at the nape of my neck. The ends are loose though and hang down over my shoulders and against my upper back, curled into perfect little ringlets. Cinna decided to put red highlights in my hair. This also brought out the natural amount of the colour that was already there. I'm not exactly sure what the team did but my skin is literally glowing in the light. I suspect it has something to do with that cream they'd rubbed me down with earlier.

My outfit consists of a strapless dress that reaches my knee, with black tights on underneath. The bodice of the dress is black, with strips of fabric all the way from the skirt to the top of it in a red-orange colour. Sewn onto the pieces of fabric are very tiny gemstones in the same colour, in varying shades of red, orange, and yellow. There's excess of the fabric that hangs loose all the way up, hanging down in a sort of ruffle. This excess sways and flutters, causing the gems to catch the light. The skirt itself is just dozens of streams of the same fabric hanging down from the edge of the bodice. This is the part that will be lit on fire. Looking at the outfit I think I'll end looking just like a piece of coal lit on fire, except far more magnificent.

My shoes are black flats, similar to my own I note, except they are also covered in gemstones in various flame patterns. Even my fingernails have been painted black and have little red, orange, and yellow stones stuck on each nail. Finally there's my make-up. Other than the stuff they used on my skin earlier, my eyes are lined in black and eyelashes have a coat of mascara over them, my lips have been mostly left alone except for a clear gloss.

Marcello and I are being helped up onto the chariot. A person can only be so anxious before they start to lose it. Marcello next to me is wearing black slacks, a black shirt, and a jacket in the same red-orange fabric as on my dress with the strips attached to it. I suspect that will be the part lit on fire.

The music blares through speakers outside and the crowd is cheering as the first chariot leaves the remake center. I'm generally in a daze until it's all over. Our costumes are set ablaze, our chariot is paraded around in front of the Capitol, and things are very loud. Unfortunately he's still alive. My pulse is loud in my ears the whole and it actually seems to drown out all the other noise. I can't believe how nervous I am. If it's this bad at only the opening ceremonies how am I supposed to hold it together for interviews, let alone going into the arena itself? The smile on my face doesn't falter though, and I have to wonder if I'll ever be able to stop. My hand seems to be waving of its own accord. I don't snap out of it until we've entered the training center and my flaming skirt has been detached from my dress and extinguished, leaving me in the tights and top of the dress.

People have gotten used to seeing District 12's flaming costumes annually now and they aren't quite the exciting spectacle they originally were, but they still manage to dazzle. Marcello doesn't seem anymore affected by this whole ordeal than he was on the train. It makes me wonder. Perhaps he's just really good at hiding his emotions; I'll have to keep an eye on him since he is an opponent after all. I wish I had the composure he has. It seems I haven't freaked out really since all this happened but I can feel it all slowly creeping to the surface. I've always been the kind of person who wears their heart on their sleeve. My father used to say I never met an emotion I didn't like. Which of course is ridiculous since I don't know many people who enjoy pain and sorrow, but I digress.

We all clamour into the elevator and I see Effie Trinket has joined us again, and Katniss, Peeta. I'm unsure of where Haymitch might be. It seems that he's mostly just here to watch now, leaving the mentoring to Katniss and Peeta. Of course they know what he knows so really this isn't a concern.

When we reach our floor I take the time to actually look around now, something I haven't really been doing much lately. Of what I can see, this place is just as lavish as the train; perhaps more so. Everything has been polished to the point it gleams. It looks to beautiful and expensive I'm afraid of even considering sitting down anywhere, even the floor. I'm tempted to take off my shoes but since no one else does, I don't bother.

My own chambers are unbelievable. I walk through the door and my jaw drops. After a moment of gaping I try to compose myself again. There are so many electronic gadgets, and panels, and buttons. The bed is huge and I figure it could probably hold 4 people easily and very comfortably. As it turns out when I wander through I learn it's not just one room it's multiple. Aside from the bedroom there's my own bathroom and a closet so huge I wonder if it's possible for anyone to ever wear that many clothes. Not to mention the bedroom is more of a sleeping area/sitting room since there are a couple chairs and a table present. Who do they think is going to be over? It's not like I have friends I can just invite over or something. Even though I'm impressed I can't help but think all this space for one person is utterly and completely unnecessary.

I don't really bother doing anything though, except but on a short, frilly yellow skirt over my tights. When I look in the mirror I think I look a little like a bumble bee with the black and yellow, but it looks nice still. The yellow seems to match what's left of my look from the opening ceremonies.

Effie comes to collect me for dinner and I follow her into a dining room. Everyone is there already, even our stylists. I was a little surprised to see them still around. Dinner is served and it's astounding how hungry I am. I do my best not to attack everything on the table but I'm sure it's a little frightening watching me devour my meal. No one comments though and they're all chattering about the opening. Even Haymitch has appeared.

Tomorrow we start training and I'm a dreading and anticipating it at the same time. Dreading it because I don't want another moment to pass by making the start of the Hunger Games closer and also because I'm worried about meeting the other tributes; they're sure to be intimidating and I can't afford to be intimidated and lose any hope I have. Anticipation because I really want to get started preparing myself, equipping myself with the necessary skills and knowledge to stay alive. It's one of those situations where you feel like you're being ripped in half by your emotions.

After dinner I head back to my room. Marcello and I exchange a long glance before we part. I think I hear him whisper, "Good night" but I can't be sure. Now I decide to have a shower, and clean off all the make-up and creams and sparkles from my costume. I'm able to take the pins out of my hair and massage my scalp. I don't know why I didn't do it earlier, they were pulling at my scalp and as soon as my hair is free I get instant relief.

I pull on a nightshirt and crawl into bed. Already I can feel myself about to start sobbing again. Sleep evades me; I toss and turn for at least an hour before there's a knock at my door. I don't think I have the will to get up, but somehow I do. Just before I open the door I wipe my tear streaked face with the edge of my pyjamas.

"What the heck does someone want now?" I mutter, and wrench the door open. Who's on the other side of that door? It's non-other than Katniss Everdeen.

"Hello." She says. "Hope I didn't wake you."

The way she speaks the last part makes me think she knew full well I would be up. I push the notion aside and shake my head.

"No, you didn't. Is something the matter?"

* * *

**Katniss POV**

All through dinner Cerise didn't say a word, yet again; although this time she seemed more occupied with the food. I haven't forgotten about before, at dinner on the train. She seemed like she wanted to say something, and then her outburst the next morning certainly confirmed that. Peeta and I have decided to go and speak to Marcello and Cerise tonight. Since I know her, and since we decided to do the "girl talks to the girl, guy talks to the guy" sort of thing, I'll be talking to Cerise.

I'm not sure what to say yet, but I'll think of something. It's more about getting her to say something. To ask questions and I will attempt to give her a useful answer. But whatever, I want to help but I'm really tired of all this. If it wasn't for the fact I'd feel guilty for doing nothing, I wouldn't be helping tributes at all. They never seem to really want my help all that much so why should I even offer it?

I reach Cerise's door and knock twice. I don't expect she'll be asleep. Sure enough she opens the door moments later, not looking at all like she just woke up but I can certainly tell she's been crying. I let out a sigh. I probably shouldn't be so irritated by this, I mean she is about to be forced to fight to the death with 23 other people, but it irks me. This better not mean she's going to be another tribute that just gives up and dies.

"Hello." I greet her, quietly. I throw in, "Hope I didn't wake you." Just for politeness, but I know she wasn't asleep and I even if she had been I don't really care.

She looks oddly at me and I think she hears the falseness of that last bit, but she doesn't say anything to indicate that so I could be wrong.

"No, you didn't. Is something the matter?"

I shake my head, "No everything is fine. I was just wondering if we could talk. I'm supposed to prepare you for the arena, so...do you have any questions? Something you want to know. Otherwise I could just sort of...talk about stuff."

This whole process has never gone smoothly; I don't know why we're doing it again, me and Peeta. It's always awkward as heck. I look around the hall and realize we're just sort of standing in the doorway.

"Can I come inside?" I ask.

Cerise looks surprised and she also peeks down the hall; apparently also having just noticed us standing around in front of her quarters. She gives a bit of a nervous laugh and steps aside.

"Sure, sorry." She says.

I merely shrug and walk inside. Not quite sure what to do with myself, I just end up sitting in one of the plush armchairs. Cerise is hesitant but eventually sits down too in the identical chair across from me. Things are silent for a few minutes. See what I mean? Awkward as heck. Damn this. It seems she also doesn't have anything to ask and this is just another waste of my time.

I should really try to hide my irritation but when I speak I'm forcing the words through gritted teeth.

"Well, anything you particularly want me to talk about? If not then I'll just tell you about starting training tomorrow and call it a night."

She looks a little shocked by my hostility but shrugs, looking at her hands. A few more minutes pass before she glances up at me and then back down again. I assume this is how things will be for the duration I'm here but then Cerise actually says something, shocking me this time.

"Could...could you...tell me about your time in the arena? Like...in detail? I was sort of hoping to hear the whole story. I think it would really be useful to know..." her voice trailed off at the end. She took in my expression, mouth hanging open a bit and eyes slightly widened, and shook her head.

"Nevermind. I'm sorry; I know I shouldn't have asked." Cerise stared down at her hands again, folded neatly in her lap. After a few seconds I managed to compose myself. Clearing my throat I get her attention and she looks at me again. I'm actually smiling a little, it's odd.

"Sure. I'll tell you." I say, and Cerise's eyes light up and she leans forward in her seat clutching the cushion.

* * *

**Cerise POV**

As Katniss tells me all about her time spent in the Hunger Games, I listen intently and try to absorb all I can. Most of the time she's speaking I notice she isn't exactly speaking to me. It's more like she's just remembering out loud. Her eyes are looking in my direction but are focused on some far off point in the distance of her memory. The story she tells me starts from her time on the tribute train all the way until that last moment inside the arena, since this is all I really need to know about.

By the time she's finished speaking I am literally in awe of her and also totally scared out of my mind; more so than even before. To face some of things she did, I doubt in my ability to survive the way she did but this is no way to be thinking. I have to try and remain at least semi-positive if not very determined. Of course, listening to her recount makes me ashamed of how I've been acting. I've been a snivelling little child, crying all night to go home, and this won't help me in the Games at all.

Once she's done speaking, I have no idea what to say. She refocuses on the present and her face is a little paler than before and she looks more tired. I'm biting my lip and looking back at her. Finally I am forcing out the only word that comes to mind, "Wow."

Katniss nods and laughs softly without humour.

"The Games are no picnic. They're going to be gruelling and will test you in every way you can imagine. That's the whole point." She says.

This fact I know. I am all too aware of this little bit of information. But the recent knowledge she has given me, while terrifying me more, also gives me more hope. Knowing all this is certain to help me immensely.

Rising from her chair, Katniss says goodnight and leaves. Only a few hours of sleep and then breakfast, and then at ten it will be time for training to begin.

I'm waking up a few hours later, light pouring in the windows and shining against my eyelids. I sit up and stretch with a yawn before getting out of bed and going into the bathroom. In the shower there is a panel of nothing but buttons with different settings for you shower. Things like water pressure, temperature, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges. By the time I actually shut the shower off and get out the amount of steam is amazing. The mirror clears in seconds though and is perfectly clear.

The mat in front of the shower has dried off all the water on my body and now I place my hand on the little box that detangles and dries my hair. I'm a surprised it's able to do it so easily considering how much hair I have, but this is the Capitol and of course there's no problem. Things are so easy for them I wonder how they don't get outrageously bored, and then I remember: they do. That's what the Hunger Games are for, another way for the people of the Capitol to entertain themselves, and also to remind us how much they are able to control us.

I pick out black capri pants and dark red shirt that zips up in the front and has no sleeves and a hood. My hair is just left down. I walk to the dining room and fill a plate with food before taking a seat. Most of the others are there, except Haymitch is absent and the stylists are gone now. So really it's just Effie, Katniss, Peeta, Marcello, and I. Apparently they want to know if we want to be coached together or separately.

I'm thinking about it and for me it doesn't really matter either way. I' don't have any real skills, none which could help me in the arena. But Marcello glances over at me and then says he'd rather be coached separately. This of course intrigues me and I keep my eyes fixed on him for a while. I wonder what it is he can do that he doesn't want me to know about. He could prove to be much more of a threat than I anticipated. I tear my gaze away from Marcello and shrug to the others. If he wants this to be done separately fine. We all begin to eat our breakfast.

Once I've sufficiently stuffed myself, I rise from my chair and head back to my room. Apparently Marcello will be coached first, then me before we have to head done for training. Of course right now I don't really have anything to do. I mean I'm sure I could find _something_, but I don't know what. My chest begins to ache as my mind wanders back home. Mentally I'm right back in District 12; I can picture it all perfectly. Never thought I'd be desperate to get back to that place.

Thinking about home becomes unbearable and I force myself to think about my fellow tributes instead. An almost equally unpleasant topic, but at least one that won't make me burst into tears. The youngest tribute this year is fourteen, the girl from District 10. She's taller than I am though and seemed frightfully unpleasant when I saw her on the recap of the reapings; kind of scrawny and gangly looking, but also quite angry and conniving. I doubt she's helpless.

I flip through the faces, flinching at the Careers. They think the winning the Games is such an honour. It disgusts me really, the thought that anyone would actually train their children for these Hunger Games and then have them volunteer. It seems the closer your district is to the Capitol the nuttier you are.

I linger momentarily over the boy from District 6, the one who reminds me of Ethan. This really bothers me because I know it'll make it so much harder to have to kill him. Hopefully someone will pick him off before I have to.

There's a knock on my door and then in walks Peeta and Katniss. I guess they're done with Marcello. I sit up from where I flopped onto the bed after breakfast. I could try to be nice or polite or something by saying hello and actually sitting in a normal chair, but for some reason I just don't feel like it. I'm too worried to care right now.

They sit down and just stare at me for a minute until I'm feeling sufficiently uncomfortable. Eventually I get up and sit down on the loveseat and just look awkwardly back at them until one of them finally pipes up. It's basically as blunt as you can get when Peeta suddenly says, "So what can you do?"

Now we get down to it, I need some sort of skill. This is just peachy because I'm pretty sure I don't have one. The only thing I've ever been good at is school; I'm smart. Not bragging or anything, but I'm at the top of my class. Sure it sounds like I'm bragging but really there isn't any sense of pride in this fact. We learn the basics of course, but everything pretty much revolves around coal.

That's great, I know a lot about coal; this info certainly will be just oodles of help on the arena. It's not so much that I'm a genius either; I just like to memorize things. I have a bit of a photographic memory which also tends to come in handy. There isn't much to do in District 12 so I end up spending my spare time learning every single detail of the stuff they teach us at school. Ethan is actually neck in neck with me when it comes to best in the class but that's more because he actually _is_ smart. Teach him something once and he's got it down. Of course practice makes perfect so that's what I do.

With a shrug I shift around in my seat before letting out the awful truth.

"I can't really do anything."

The words have only just left my mouth when Katniss is leaning forward in her chair, and looks like she's about to pounce on my, when she says, "That's crap, you have to be able to do something! Anything at you're good at." She sounds kind of angry to me and this makes my own temper rise up. Is it my fault I don't have any fighting skills or some dumb skill like that? It's not like I need any of that back home. Sure she had to learn to hunt to feed her family, but I didn't and my father doesn't let me go with him!

So I yell all of this back at her, along with the bit about school. It's a I really have to say about it and I expect them to drop and leave, to just let me die in the arena then, but they don't. Katniss leans back in her seat and seems to be trying to calm down while my anger has already subsided. Peeta looks to make sure Katniss has a hold of herself before continuing.

"There has to be something. Trust me, no matter how small, it could end up saving you in there. Maybe we could work with what you told us..." His words trail off at the end and I think maybe he meant to say more but he's lost in thought. Katniss is still just looking at me and once again I'm feeling very uncomfortable. These people have issues with staring.

I close my eyes to try and escape her gaze but I can still feel it. Attempting another distraction I try to think of any skills I might have. The only thing that stands out in my mind is something my mother always tells me; I'm precise. Exact, accurate, specific, whatever word you want to use for it. She always gets me to thread the needle for her. Not because she can't but because I'm better at it. I can thread a needle in one swift motion barely even looking at it. It might now seem like such a complicated thing to do but if you ask a lot of people to do it, they can't; at least not on the first try.

Little things like that. Like when I'm helping her sew something, he stitches are always perfect and identical but then so are mine. My mother has had years and years of practice I just seem to be good at it. Ethan just used to say, "I guess you're really good at sewing?" but that isn't the case either.

Sure I can do the stitches and make then perfect and exact, but I can't actually make an article of clothing. I tried but without something follow I ends up looking like a sac. Albeit a very nice sac, perfectly measured, nice seams, etc, but a sac none the less. Thinking perhaps this could be something useful I explain my little..."skill" to my mentors.

An hour later things seem to be figured out, sort of. Katniss and Peeta have been trying to figure out ways for me to use what little talents I have in the arena. We've learnt I actually have pretty good aim, attributing this to my aptitude for consistency.

Oh course our only test for this has been having me chuck things around the room. Nothing will be known for sure until I get to training in the arena. Peeta thought maybe I could be good archery and this way Katniss could be able to help me improve with that, only problem is I can't properly hold a bow.

Our next solution to that was just to try and have Katniss help me with that too but since we don't have a bow around here it would be sort of hard. They don't want me doing something that involves close range, too much, and I agree. Only things that seem to be left are spears or knife throwing. So I'm going with the latter. It seems closer to what we've been doing up here, and I can get knives up on our floor.

Not much of a plan I'll admit, but at least it's something. All I can think is no wonder they won the Hunger Games, they're pretty good at this; but you could probably just chalk that up to years of experience by now.

By the time I'm in the elevator heading down to start training I'm all nerves. I'm trying to keep myself devoid of emotion, or at least looking like it, but it's a very difficult task. How Ethan does it I'll never know, it seems dreadfully hard; harder than just feeling such emotions instead of masking them. Marcello is oddly calm; at least that's what I think at first. Now I notice his eyes darting all over the place full of worry and they way he keeps fidgeting.

Once we get to the bottom though, I step out of the elevator and focus my attention straight ahead, finding one point and gluing my eyes to it. I'm vaguely aware of someone pinning a little cloth to my back and I realize it's just like everyone else has except mine has a twelve on it. Most of the other tributes just ignore out arrival except a few who glance this way.

One person who does take notice is that boy from district 6, who reminds me of Ethan even though they look barely similar. He's looking right at me and strangest of all has this dumb grin on his face that looks like he's about to wave and then come over, striking up a conversation like we're old friends. I avert my attention. So much for finding a point and focussing on it.

After some initial instructions, we're free to roam around and go to different stations. I'm not exactly sure where to start. Katniss told me her and Peeta went to the knot tying station first. Maybe I could start there as well?

_Why not?_ I think and head over.

A couple minutes later I wish I had started somewhere else; this knot tying is beyond boring. This is partially because it just is boring and partially because I'm pretty good at it. The instructor here is teaching me a few different things. I hope everything is this easy.

Sadly, everything was not as easy as knot tying. I spent half an hour learning how to start a fire; how could it be so hard? Well it wasn't _that_ hard but it was harder than I expected it to be. Then I spent over an hour learning about edible plants. I think I've got everything I learnt memorized though, and the next couple days I'll be going over things multiple times.

Next I was planning on trying out some different weapons and see if I can get the hang of anything, but I couldn't do it. Not couldn't as in I was inept, couldn't as in I just couldn't bring myself to touch any of them. This is bad. Luckily it's lunch now so I can act nonchalant and try again after.

* * *

All the tributes eat lunch together in a sort of small cafeteria style room just next to door to where the stations are. It's just like Katniss told me, the Careers slash tributes form Districts 1,2, and 4, seem to have formed an alliance and eat together. Everyone else is scattered about, one person to an entire table practically. Marcello is on the opposite side of the room and this is fine with me, I take a seat right where I am.

Not being so hungry right now, I get this little tiny bowl of some sort of soup and eat a couple rolls. The basket has ones from all the districts but I keep to the District 12 rolls because they remind me of home. A few minutes ago I sort of zoned out again, ripping up the roll in my hand into tiny pieces, when a noise startles me; the sound of someone saying hello.

I lift my gaze and guess who should be seating himself in the chair in front of me; the boy from District 6. Of course with my mind playing tricks on me, at first I see Ethan. Then I do a bit of a double-take and see who it really is. My brain is doing this "wishful thinking" thing I have a tendency for; seeing Ethan everywhere.

I just stare at him, wide eyed and shocked for a moment until he gives me this look showing how incredibly amusing I am to him. That's when it hits me; this is probably all some weird tactic for the Games. I bet he caught me looking at him a few times throughout this morning and thinks he can get some weird advantage out of all this.

"I'm Karan." He says. "District 6."

I close my gaping mouth and wipe the shock off my face, switching to anger and irritation instead.

"Can I help you with something Karan of District 6? You're interrupting my lunch here."

This seems to amuse him even more and now he's fighting off grinning at me again. One thing is for sure, he may be similar to Ethan appearance wise but their personalities are way different. I'm lucky if Ethan can smile at all. Then I realize this isn't entirely true. Karan is mostly smirking at me, a look Ethan used to give me all the time before we started...dating or whatever. The look I used to get from him when he was having oodles of fun irritating me and watching me get right frustrated.

_Ugh Ethan and this Karan are nothing alike! I think lack of sleep is frying my brain. I will not think about any of this again!_

I start repeating this thought like a mantra in my head. If I had paper with me I'd write it out over and over.

Karan's got his whole lunch with him still and he starts to eat, still just looking at me with the same infuriating look. He seems so arrogant. I have no idea why he has chosen to burden me with his presence instead of someone else.

"So, anything special you can do Cerise?"

I snort and roll my eyes. "Yeah, because I'm going to tell _you_."

My attitude doesn't faze him. "You seemed to be having a little trouble with the weapons earlier." He says.

Despite myself, I gasp. I hadn't thought anyone noticed. He must notice the shock on my face melt into worry because the teasing look is gone and he tries to reassure me.

"Don't worry, I'm the only one who noticed I swear. I've been paying close attention to you."

Relief washes over me momentarily even though I know there's no way he can be sure no one else noticed. The next second I find myself deeply disturbed by the end of his statement.

"You've been 'paying attention to me'? Why? Do you have any idea how creepy that sounds, Karan?"

"Please," he holds up a hand to me, "call me Kar. It's very irritating for you to keep saying my full name like that."

Now I'm the one smirking at him. "Oh really, Karan? Well I'm sorry about that, Karan. But I'll call you whatever it is I feel like, Karan."

I intend to keep this up to bug him but he grimaces, picks up his lunch, and leaves.

At first I'm quite pleased with myself but I visibly begin to wilt. That was childish of me. Fortunately I quickly recover. _He _was the one who came over here and started bothering me. Besides, soon we'll be in the arena trying to kill each other so why should I care if I was rude to him? I lay my head down on the table for the remainder of lunch trying to turn my brain off so I don't have to think of anything.


End file.
